A Little Night Music
by Aashlee Elizabeth
Summary: "When did you know for certain?" Spock and Nyota have conversations, as couples sometimes do, about their past, their future, and the events that shape their relationship. A mix of deeper thoughts, lighter thoughts, and some teasing.


_Greetings!_

_This is not a story in the traditional sense; it's more of a conversation that may wander a bit. But, as this is fan fiction, anything goes. If you're interested in more details behind this fic, read the author's note at the end._

_Thanks for reading…_

* * *

**A LITTLE NIGHT MUSIC**

* * *

"When did you know for certain?"

"Know what, Nyota?"

"Know that you wanted me as more than a friend."

He turned his head toward her, lying next to him on a blanket atop a grassy area — actually an area covered by Canis VI's equivalent of grass. They had been stargazing. Well, she had. Spock rarely spent time scanning the heavens without a specific, usually scientific purpose. But she had led him here to take a needed break from yet another social mixer at this Starfleet leadership retreat. Even the extroverted Nyota needed to get away from the crowds once in a while, and, after a full week of seminars and other programmed events, she missed having him all to herself.

Off duty, Spock preferred quieter environments, so he had welcomed Nyota's suggestion to accompany her to the top of this hill not far from the lodge's athletic field. With a light jacket to ward off the chill, he was comfortable enough. Lying there, each had shared snippets of the day's experiences. These quiet moments with her satisfied him, even when she asked perplexing questions, just like the one she asked now.

"Well…?" she persisted, watching the mini mental maelstrom behind his eyes with some amusement. "…Any thoughts, Mister?"

Spock had meditated on this question occasionally. Always a conclusion had eluded him. Too many factors muddled by emotions that he sometimes had difficulty identifying prevented a higher degree of rational analysis. It might have been easier to ignore the whole question except that Spock's inquisitive nature and need for a clear answer demanded resolution.

After a few moments, she tapped his shoulder lightly with her index finger, perhaps a subconscious prompt for his answer.

"I do not know." Spock had learned during the course of their relationship that Nyota rarely asked such questions without reason. "Is there concern about my regard for you?"

"No…just curious."

"Indeed?" he pressed back.

Nyota realized that Spock would begin overthinking this if she did not clarify. "I promise, it's nothing serious. A few of us were talking about relationships at dinner — some of the _Excelsior_ people, Lt. Davies, and I — and the topic of falling in love came up. Then Davies asked, how does a person knows when he or she has found a soulmate?" Nyota shifted and exhaled as she moved onto her back, staring again at the stars. "Never mind, Spock. Just take me to the infirmary now. I'm succumbing to silly human _romance-itis_."

"Romance_-itis_?" Spock analyzed the word's roots attempting to decipher what Nyota meant.

Nyota laughed as his eyes narrowed while the figurative wheels turned in his head.

Finally an eyebrow rose. "I trust that this 'malady' has few lasting effects."

"No, it doesn't," she giggled, moving in closer to his side. His warmth felt nice as the night air continued to cool. "Don't worry about it."

Nyota moved in closer yet, laying an arm around his waist and tucking her head on his bicep and shoulder, snuggled and content. The problem was, now Spock was not. She had posed one of those questions that tugged him often since he and Nyota had acknowledged their personal relationship. Spock suspected that the answer was deep inside his human side. It had to be his human side because his Vulcan side would have easily produced the answer after following a protocol of reasoning.

When did he first want her?

More specifically: When did he _know_ that he wanted her?

Neither were questions he would have voiced out loud himself, but now that she had verbalized one of them, the mystery of his own attraction to her had again entrenched itself in his head and would not subside until another meditative session. Logical or not, he could not help pondering it, weighing the factors and variables behind his singular attraction to Nyota.

And so he began, reviewing his memories of their interactions, first as instructor and student, then as instructor and aide. His eidetic memory could recall dates, times, and circumstances of each interactions. Puzzling, however, his time sense disappeared as he tried to identify stages of a growing emotional attachment. He could only assign broad time period to each sequence, mostly because he had denied the growing attachment to her as it was happening, struggling deep within himself to bury it beneath Vulcan cultural expectations and control.

When their eyes met and they connected upon their first meeting when she asked a question in class, as an instructor he knew he could not consider her, and, as a Vulcan male, he would not. He adhered to the professionalism expected of anyone undertaking a Starfleet career, therefore he declined many offers from prospective romantic partners throughout his time as a cadet, junior science officer, and Academy instructor, as it was not his nature to do so. This self-directive extended to Nyota, given that fraternization rules clearly forbade instructor/student relationships.

In addition, his betrothal bond T'Pring, in theory, should have prevented a romantic connection to anyone else.

As a child before bonding, the elders told him that bonds between betrothed pairs strengthened with each passing year. His and T'Pring's had not, however. Another consequence of his human DNA, or one as a result of his extended absence off-planet, perhaps. Where most couples their age would have begun planning their post-nuptial lives, Spock and T'Pring rarely interacted at all. It hardly mattered that finding T'Pring's presence in his mind had become more difficult since leaving Vulcan years before. And so this bond retreated precipitously in the last couple years into a whisper, if one were generous in describing it. But as with anything else that Spock took seriously in his life, he committed himself to his betrothal.

So how had he and Nyota become "more than just friends"?

The only conclusion that Spock had been able to draw from his many meditations was that he had wanted Nyota before he consciously acknowledged that want.

With these many thoughts churning through his head, instead of pressing back into Nyota's warmth, as he usually did when she cuddled into him, he remained stiff. Sensing his disquiet, Nyota reached up and trailed a finger from his shoulder blade to his bicep. "_Ashayam_?" She examined his expression. "Uh-oh, in the immortal words of our esteemed Dr. McCoy, you're a 'dog with a bone.'"

"…?..."

"It means you're obsessing. You won't let it go."

He looked back. Of course he was obsessing over the emotion-based quandary that she had implanted, and now he was slightly annoyed. Such topics would rarely intrude on a Vulcan's thoughts to the degree they did in Spock's. Though he had made progress in accepting more of his human side's idiosyncrasies, his Vulcan upbringing rarely ceased to reprimand him for indulging them as they came up. Spock had reconciled himself with accepting the inevitable clashing of his dual natures. _Kaiidth._ That did not make it easy, however.

Nyota had witnessed Spock's internal struggles before and recognized the signs of his brilliant brain firing on all thrusters, yet unable to find an answer. "No one is going to sleep tonight until we figure this thing out." Nyota smiled, laid her right hand on his cheek, and tilted her head. "Maybe we can narrow it down together, hmm…? So…," her voice lilted seductively, "did you know I was your soulmate the first day you saw me?"

Spock, who could not help his honesty most days, stated his answer simply. "No."

And that was true. However, if he were to be completely honest, he would have said that Nyota had stood out, even that first day, with her active class participation and logical queries and observations. In subsequent class sessions, she continued to distinguish herself.

"Hm." Nyota frowned and pulled back slightly. Spock understood from the pitch of her vocalization that she was not truly offended. His interpretation of indistinct human vocalizations was improving.

"Was it…maybe the _tenth _time you saw me?" Nyota's right eyebrow was up, and she had a small upward curve to her lips.

Tenth time. Spock eidetic memory recalled precisely the tenth time her saw her. "You sought my assistance during office hours," he said.

A burst of laughter punctuated the quiet hum of insect life around them. Nyota could not help appreciating her boyfriend's unique talents, his perfect recall among them. "I suppose it was," she grinned. "And…?"

And the answer was not as clear-cut as Spock would have suspected had he not examined that episode in detail, as he did now. Had he wanted her at that point? "You were singular in your drive to understand the subject matter in detail. Your understanding of nuanced inflexions in the Andorian diplomatic vernacular was noteworthy. In comparison to the more minor concerns of your classmates, our interaction was…," Spock searched for a Vulcan-appropriate description, "…refreshing."

"'Refreshing,' huh? Well, you sweet talker, you certainly know how to get a girl all hot and bothered. …Don't give me that look. You know _exactly_ what I mean!" she laughed.

Spock did not deny it. Instead he displayed the most innocent of non-expressive expressions.

"All right…," she continued. "It wasn't the first, and it wasn't the tenth. Maybe it was, hmmmm, the hundredth time?"

Their hundredth encounter occurred at Verna's Vegetarian Café, 2.3 blocks northeast of the Academy campus. Because their long conversations often monopolized his office hours, he had agreed to meet her outside of them to accommodate her insatiable desire to delve into class topics more thoroughly or to practice and perfect her conversational Vulcan. Not only did he continue to find her "refreshing," the experience speaking and listening to another in his native language was satisfying. He had had few opportunities to converse in Vulcan since joining Starfleet. Though this was yet another thing he would never admit out loud, he had missed Vulcan speech's quiet cadences.

Even with the occasional correction to her word choices or pronunciation, their conversations flowed easily, touching on many topics covering language, customs, the arts, and science as Spock helped Nyota expand her vocabulary and enhance her proficiency.

Somewhere, perhaps during their one hundred and thirty-first encounter, also at Verna's, their conversations, which usually centered on academics, quietly shifted to a shared interest: music.

Inside and outside of academic settings, Spock limited his conversations to safe academic topics. With few exceptions (like Christopher Pike), Spock rarely revealed his personal side to anyone. On Earth, his Vulcan background made him the object of curiosity and attracted intrusive questions that conflicted with his more private Vulcan sensibilities. On Vulcan, his human blood had illogically inspired a distrust among his peers. Even some adults kept their distance.

Thus, he trusted few people, and his innate social shyness further curtailed his willingness to open up. He had been betrayed by some who called themselves his friends at various points in his life. Even small revelations about himself had been exploited, turned against him as others used their knowledge to humiliate him or compromise his standing in Vulcan's strict social pecking order.

Spock had learned to keep his own company, to remain apart. Outside his home he found solace in disciplines that allowed him to stand on his own merits, especially the sciences. In the privacy his room, he found release for his creative side in his studies of literature, art, and, especially, his music.

Few people knew the refuge music provided for him, and it was a topic he guarded.

Nyota's genuine excitement at discovering that Spock played multiple instruments, including the ka'athyra, which she said she "loved," penetrated Spock's social wall. As his trust in her built, their shared interest in music opened the door to more personal topics.

"Not the hundredth, then?" Nyota asked.

"No," Spock said, refocusing his eyes after his musings. "However, a resonant connection may have originated at our one hundred and thirty-first encounter."

"One hundred and thirty-first?!" Nyota backed off so she could look at Spock's entire face. "One hundred and thirty-first? OK, Mister, remind me what happened at our one hundred and thirty-first encounter."

"We discovered our common interest in music."

Nyota's mouth dropped open while her eyes widened, recalling when he revealed to her his more artistic side. She drew in a breath. "Yes…yes, I remember! That really was the beginning, wasn't it?"

Spock found some gratification in presenting relevant data to Nyota's obvious satisfaction.

"But that wasn't when you began to consider me as more than a friend, was it?"

"No. However, I did find your company agreeable before that meal."

Nyota smiled. "I'm glad. I didn't want to bore you."

"You have never bored me."

"So, maybe it was the two-hundredth time? Where did we see each other then?"

Spock searched his memory again and made the necessary calculations. "It was our third meeting after you accepted the teaching assistant position."

Nyota's eyes darted upward and to her left as she thought back on the circumstances that facilitated her employment. "Commander Raiyal recommended me to you."

"That is correct. She cited your academic record and focus on Vulcan-Romulan studies in her assessment."

"Because you refused every other candidate up to that point. Convincing you that you should have some help…she was getting desperate."

Nyota was correct. Spock, up to that point, had not desired an assistant. "Yes."

Nyota smiled. "And although the position was slated to start at the fall term, you insisted that we begin at the summer term."

"I recall."

Nyota's smile grew. "OK, maybe that's because somewhere between our hundred and thirty-first encounter and our two hundredth encounter, you…maybe liked what you saw?"

Nyota implied much more with her own raised eyebrows. Vocalizing what "liking what he saw" meant might embarrass him into silence, even if it was just the two of them here, alone, on a hill in the late evening looking up at the stars. As it was, predictably, he ignored the question.

However, she felt the hum of his overactive mind as it continued to narrow his thoughts. "When I became your assistant, did you already want me?"

Back then, he had told himself that Cadet Uhura's qualifications, academic performance, and work ethic were most satisfactory, therefore his motivation to begin work sooner rather than wait for the fall term was most logical. If Spock were to be completely honest with himself now, as he considered himself at that time, he would have to admit that the prospect of working with Nyota beside him had filled him with the peace of knowing that their interactions would be comfortable and satisfying. No one else, not even his mother, had interacted with him so to such a degree.

"Spock?"

Speaking emotion-based thoughts out loud was difficult for him, though. Nyota changed her approach to take the focus off of him.

"You know, I was as excited by working with you as I was at getting the department assistant posting. I was attracted to you."

He looked back at her. Most males enjoyed hearing that they were attractive. Deep down, Spock was no exception. "Yet your behavior remained professional."

"Well, because I didn't want to screw up our working relationship. If you had known, you might have transferred me out, and how would that have looked on my record? Besides, you were fun."

"Fun?"

"Uhm-hmmm, fun. And smart. And handsome. Intriguing and…"

Even in the low light, Nyota could see that quiet embarrassment play across Spock's features.

"…And you know that I took some flack; every member of the Spock Appreciation Society was jealous beyond belief."

Spock breathed out in exasperation. Nyota had revealed the existence of this group of infatuated cadets to him before and delighted in teasing him about it occasionally. Reconciling the thoughts of having the romantic equivalent of a "fan club" was impossible and confusing. Spock, as always, ignored the mention of the group and reiterated, "Fun?"

"Yes, our study sessions were fun. Our conversations were fun. You were 'fascinating.' My human self doesn't have your time sense, so, for me, the time just flew because I enjoyed talking to you so much."

"We found an affinity."

Nyota laughed. "To put it mildly, as much as we could in a professional setting."

"Yes."

"But some point, we became more."

"Yes."

Nyota was enjoying their banter. It appeared that Spock was loosening up and enjoying it, too.

"So, it was before you notified me of the appointment to the department aide posting…."

"Our one hundred and ninety-fifth meeting, yes."

"After we found our common interest in music…."

"Our one hundred and thirty-first meeting."

"Between them were sixty-four encounters. Were they all classes or study sessions?"

"No, seventeen were encounters on the campus in transit between classes and appointments."

"You counted those?"

The eyebrows rose.

"Of course, you did. OK, that leaves forty-three encounters. How many were classes? You didn't decide that you wanted me while you were outlining the etymology of Andorian curses, did you?" she teased.

He stiffened in mock affront. "I have never outlined the etymology of Andorian curses."

"I stand corrected," she laughed. "But your mind during class would not have been on me, so I think we can eliminate all class times."

Spock secretly conceded that sometimes he had focused on her in class, if only briefly, between subject changes. She was correct, though. The likelihood of realizing the depth of Nyota's personal value to him while imparting information to a room full of cadets was minimal.

"How many classes can we eliminate?"

"Thirty-six."

"That leaves, hmmm, seven encounters. What were we doing during the remaining seven encounters?"

"You sang in an Academy Chorale concert. I offered you my regards afterwards, upon our one hundred and eighty-first meeting."

"That was late in the term. What were your regards for me then?"

Spock thought back to listening to her voice soar passionately in a Deltan ballad. At that point, he knew that she had already become more than a friend. His eyes met Nyota's and warmed.

"It was before the concert, then."

"Yes." At this point, a realization within Spock formed, grew, and solidified.

Nyota saw and felt the change. "You know."

"Yes."

"When?"

"Our one hundred and fifty-fourth encounter."

"And what were we doing?"

"We were attending the Voices of Kenya concert at Stanford."

Nyota smiled, remembering the choir from her hometown performing at the nearby university. Along with hundreds of others seated in the university's Fine Arts Center, Spock and Nyota had immersed themselves in the melodious arrangements sung in the traditional African choral style with its beautiful, sometimes haunting, often stirring harmonies. Overall the repertoire of beloved folk songs sung uplifted Nyota, and at the end of the performance, she had been happy. She understood that Spock had enjoyed the performance, as he had called it "pleasing."

Why would this, though, motivate Spock, her Vulcan instructor and superior officer at the time, to begin seeing her as more than a friend? The songs had been about the struggles faith, change, and society — none had been romantic. Nyota's confusion showed with narrowed eyes and a crease between her eyebrows.

A small smile threatened to turn the corners of Spock's mouth upward. Though he controlled them, his eyes continued to warm as he brought his hand to the familiar melding points on the side of Nyota's face. "May I?"

Nyota nodded her permission.

Within the haze of memory, she heard her own voice, faintly at first, then clearer as Spock's memory came into focus.

"_Commander…you mentioned that you'd be interested in learning more about East African music. My friend Abbi's choir from the University of East Africa is performing at Stanford on Friday night. Would you like to go? I can get tickets."_

Through Spock's memory, she saw herself as "Cadet Uhura." Cadet Uhura's eyes lit with enthusiasm as she made the offer. She felt his interest at the prospect, his mental review of his schedule, then his conflict as he, an Academy instructor, weighed the possible repercussions of accepting a cadet's invitation to a non-Academy social function. After determining that the rules did not explicitly prohibit outings conducted under the auspices of cultural exchange, the decision became a matter of personal preference.

Nyota continued down Spock's path of reasoning inside his memory. As he had become acquainted with Cadet Uhura, he had become curious about the influences that drove her. Before him she waited with an expression that he had learned to recognize as "hopeful" on her face. He also recognized that accepting this offer would be conducive to her making future such offers, which then would aid in sating his curiosity about this individual further. He "reasoned" with little internal resistance that the idea of accepting her offer would therefore be logical.

Deeper down, though Spock censored it from conscious thought, he simply wanted to spend the time with her. Nyota felt more resistance as he wondered why she would wish to spend her recreational time with him, then realized that she spent, assuming that she slept an average of 7.14 hours per night, an estimated 64.7 percent of her unscheduled time with him already.

_"You calculated my sleep schedule!"_ Nyota's mind exclaimed, laughing. _"I shouldn't be surprised!"_

She felt her amusement mirrored in Spock as he redirected her to his memory of her face as he examined it further. It remained hopeful. She wanted him to attend with her. He would not disappoint her.

"_I will go."_

Her hopeful expression transformed into pure joy, and her smile, wide by most standards of human expression, widened by another 6.3 percent.

"_Great!"_ she exclaimed. _"I will have to meet you there in the lobby, though. I'm seeing Abbi before the concert because her choir is leaving immediately after. We won't have a chance to see each other otherwise."_

Nyota felt Memory-Spock's minor relief at avoiding the appearance of favoritism if they left the Academy campus together on a Friday night—traditionally "date night" for human couples, as Spock understood it. However, it mixed with some disappointment at missing her company for part of the evening.

Tamping down the disappointment, Memory-Spock retained his calm._ "That is acceptable."_

As promised, a couple days later Spock sought out Nyota in the Fine Arts Center lobby. Somehow he sensed the presence that was uniquely Nyota's, and his eyes located her quickly. She had stationed herself in clear view of the main entrances. She wore a royal indigo blouse and a kitenge in vibrant reds, oranges, and accents of the same indigo. A bold gold necklace and long earrings with several cascading strands, plus multiple thin gold bracelets on her wrists and clasps in her hair reflected brilliance from even the modest lobby lighting.

When their eyes met, her features again reorganized themselves into the familiar smile. The luminescence of her eyes, though Spock could not explain how, intensified as they walked toward each other. As sensitive as Spock was, he normally blocked the ebbs and flows of emotion all around him, and he did this night, too. Yet Cadet Uhura's aura drew him in. She was glad to see him. He was pleasing to her. She welcomed his companionship.

At that moment, to Spock, Cadet Uhura glowed in the aura of her companionship and all its warmth.

Nyota interrupted his memory with her own images of him that night, dressed in a dark green—close to black—Vulcan-style suit, which pleasantly enhanced his long, lean lines. The color brought out the warm ocher undertones in his brown eyes. Something in him pulled her deeper into his presence. Maybe deeper than presence. Essence, maybe?

With a quiet greeting, they fell into step with one another on the way to the auditorium entrance. To Spock and Nyota, separately and together – as each learned looking at the other's memory – it felt right. Yet, both Memory-Spock and Memory-Nyota had lied to themselves. Student and instructor, their new regard for one another was wrong. Neither would admit their attraction to the other, not for many more months.

But for one night, they had ignored their "wrong." For one evening immersed in the songs that Nyota was so eager for Spock to hear, and dinner at an African restaurant afterward, she welcomed him into her world, a small trade for the many times he allowed Nyota a glimpse into his.

By Monday, their association would return to its former status.

So they had each vowed to themselves.

Nyota mentally laughed at the absurdity of their idealistic selves as Spock brought them out of the meld, then sighed aloud as she leaned in closer to him, cuddling closer by sliding one leg over his to stay warmer in the night's chilling air. "I sense a pattern."

"Yes, Nyota?"

"Music, Spock. It was always the music. We already shared many interests. But our relationship always took another step after we shared our music, songs, compositions that mattered to us. Perhaps it was how we shared another piece of ourselves. "

It was an interesting thought to Spock. He would have to analyze it.

Nyota knew he would, giggled a bit, then, reminded of the choir concert long ago, began to hum one of the African folk songs they had heard that night.

Spock listened until she hummed herself through the third verse of the song. "Nyota?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you attempting to advance the state of our relationship?

She giggled some more. "You would like that? Want to make some more music, Mister?"

Even Spock understood that corny cliché. When she looked up and grinned at him, he lay his head back down, focused on the stars above, and breathed out again in his version of exasperation.

So Nyota hummed another favorite, this time faster and louder.

Spock never ceased to marvel at the level of illogic he tolerated from her. Still, the prospect of "making more music" pleased him.

"Hey!" A familiar voice from somewhere down the hill broke the mood. "Someone up there?"

With the sound of approaching footsteps, Spock and Nyota sat up on the blanket innocently before a beam of light shone on them.

"Oh, sure," said Jim Kirk. "You would pick the best spot to star-gaze around here."

"If you wouldn't mind, _Captain_." Nyota shielded her eyes against the glare.

"Sorry!" Kirk said brightly. He redirected his flashlight's beam toward the ground. "I suppose we'll have to pick another spot," he said to his companion, a lieutenant from the _Excelsior_ who Nyota, once her eyes readjusted to the dark, recognized from their dinner conversation. The woman glanced between Nyota and Spock, and her eyes widened.

Nyota turned to Spock. "We were getting ready to go anyway."

Spock nodded in agreement, and the two rose. Spock shook out the blanket.

Kirk nonchalantly raised his hands. "Don't leave on our account. We can go somewhere else." Somewhere the imp in Kirk could not resist. "I'd, uh, hate to be interrupting _something_."

"Not at all," said Spock, who tucked their blanket under his arm, then gestured toward a path down the hill.

Nyota curled her arm around Spock's free one and smiled. "Good night, Captain."

After the pair had begun their descent down the hill and faded into the dark, Kirk heard lively humming, first from a female voice, soon joined by a male one.

Which, as he considered who had just left, left Jim Kirk extremely confused.

Maybe he didn't want to know.

* * *

**Author's Note, December 18, 2013:** Hi, all! It's been about a year since I posted anything to this site, and what a busy year it has been! First, I want to thank everyone who has read and reviewed (and re-read and wrote additional reviews for) my other works during my absence. Your interest lifted me, made me happy, motivated me to squeeze in some writing time, and work through writer's block. Blessings to you all!

In a way, this piece is a response to the many requests for a Spock & Nyota "how they got together" story. There are so many of them, some really good ones whose quality I don't know that I can match. So, I decided, that if I were going to touch on that topic, I wanted to try another approach. I wanted to be different. So, here it is, my attempt: a conversation between Spock and Nyota looking back at their past, comparing their past selves with their present selves.

Now, I'm thinking that Spock and Nyota must have many conversations about various people, situations, and aspects of their lives. Don't be surprised if this becomes part of a "Conversations" series. There are so few Spock & Nyota fics on here these days (kudos to the talented folks who are keeping the pairing alive). I want to do my part to keep this fanfic segment going.

In a few days I'm out of the country for a couple weeks. I'll respond to questions and reviews when I return. Until then, thank you for your readership. I wish you a most prosperous and fulfilling new year…_—"Aashlee"_


End file.
